


The In-Between

by ameanstoanendor



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Past Character Death, and while that’s who I intended for him to be with, it could be blakefield if you squint, will’s wife is only mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameanstoanendor/pseuds/ameanstoanendor
Summary: When Will rests against the tree and closes his eyes, he finds himself faced with a ghost and a decision to make.
Relationships: Tom Blake & William Schofield, William Schofield/William Schofield's Wife
Kudos: 12





	The In-Between

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on July 21, 2020

The moment William Schofield opens his eyes, he instinctually knows that something is off. The screams of the dying and injured are no longer present; turning his head, he sees that the medic’s tent has vanished. So have the chalk-white trenches, and so have all the soldiers. He is sitting in the middle of a golden field of flowers, his back still pressed up against that tree he had sat against earlier.

Oddly enough, that is not what shocks William Schofield the most. No, what shocks him the most is that the pain he had felt in his hand and head is completely gone. He vaguely remembers being aware of the pain slowly subsiding, of his senses dimming. He ponders why the pain has vanished for a few moments.

Suddenly, it hits him.

“Oh,” he says aloud to no one in particular, “I’ve died. I’m dead.”

“Not yet, Scho, but you’re heading that way,” a voice says from behind him. Will tenses immediately, recognizing the voice, the lilt of the syllables as they are spoken.

“Blake. Tom,” he says, peering around the tree to see Tom approaching him. Will is not as surprised as he thinks he should be as he watches Tom settle down opposite him, laying just as he had the day before when the sergeant had disturbed his sleep and consequently sent him on an errand that would lead to his death. 

Tom regards him for a few moments and sighs when Will does not attempt to say anything. Will wants to say many, many things. He’s sorry, he should have known better, it should’ve been him, he should’ve gotten there in time, and so much more.

“Stop it, Will,” Tom says, as though reading his thoughts, “I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t blame yourself for things that were all wildly out of your control.”

Will opens his mouth to argue, but then closes it when Tom settles a fierce glare upon him. Tom does not try to maintain a conversation, though, and instead settles against the grass and flowers.

Will thinks about what he should say for quite a few minutes before deciding upon, “You said I’m not dead yet. Why am I here, then? Why are you here?” He does not ask where ‘here’ is, but Tom always seemed to be able to read him very well.

“You’re not dead, Will, but you’re dying. You’re,” Tom sighs, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re in the ‘in-between.’”

“Oh,” Will says, as though it makes perfect sense to him, even though it doesn’t, “Did you come here, when you...?”

“No. There was no way I could’ve lived from that wound,” Tom says. Will looks to his abdomen, to the spot where the knife entered, but blessedly sees nothing.

“I’m here because I can live?” Will asks after a few moments, finally picking up on what Tom had said. Despite the fact that he does not feel pain in his head from his wound, his mind is very foggy.

“Yes. But you’re also here because you’ve decided you can’t. You’ve decided to give up,” Tom replies. Will arches an eyebrow at that.

“I did hit my head rather hard. And my hand’s bound to be infected. And not to mention the river, possible pneumonia and hypothermia, and—“ Will is cut off by Tom’s annoyed huff.

“You’re making excuses for why you’ve decided to give up living,” Tom says, “None of those things have happened yet, but you’ve already decided that there’s no point in finding out, and you’re giving up.”

“What’s the point anymore, Blake? I delivered the message, I found your brother. Why can’t I just... why can’t I finally rest?” Will asks.

Tom does not say anything. Instead, he points to Will’s hands. In them are the photographs of his wife and daughters. He must’ve fallen into this “in-between” holding them. 

His heart clenches at the thought of them, at the thought of leaving them alone, husbandless, fatherless, to fend for themselves. Absentmindedly, he flips his wife’s photograph over and reads the message “Come back to us” in her lovely handwriting for what must be the hundredth time.

“Will, I know you’re tired. And you’ve done more than your part in this God-forsaken war. But your family— they need you. And you need them, whether you know it now or not,” Tom says when Will finally looks away from his photographs.

“But what about you? What about your family? It’s not fair. Why should I get to see mine again when you never got to see yours again?” Will asks.

“Nothing about this war, or any war, for that matter, is fair. It rips apart families, friends. It’s horrific and gruesome. But your family doesn’t have to be one of the ones that is ripped apart,” Tom tells him, standing up.

Will is silent as he watches Tom gather his things, still wearing the uniform he died in.

“It’s your decision to make, though. You can either follow me, or stay here. Just remember,” Tom kneels down and presses his forehead against Will’s, “I’ll always be with you. Whatever decision you make, I’ll be there for you.”

Tom stands up straight again, readjusts his kit on his back, and places his helmet upon his head. He gives Will a sad, but genuine, smile, and walks away in the direction he came from. 

Will sighs.

——————

Joseph Blake has had a rather busy day. He’d made sure of it; anything to get his mind off of his baby brother. His brave, foolish, sweet baby brother.

This is why he does not notice that the soldier who had brought him the news, Lance Corporal William Schofield, is still sitting against that tree until it is nearly dark outside. It does not look like he has moved a muscle since he sat there earlier that morning.

This sparks concern inside of Joseph Blake, who decides to check on the man to make sure he is alright. 

As he approaches the tree, Joe attempts to discern whether William is breathing or not, but it is unfortunately very difficult to tell in the waning light. As he gets closer, however, he can tell that the man’s eyes are closed.

Joe walks slightly faster. He had caught glimpses of the man’s wounds when they first met. They had seemed small. Joseph is far too aware of the fact, however, that even the smallest of wounds can kill a man in this war. 

When he finally arrives in front of William, he calls his name. William does not stir.

A slight jolt of panic runs through Joe, but years of military training force him to push it down. He kneels down and gently shakes the man’s shoulder. He does not want to feel for a pulse yet, too worried about what he might not feel.

“William,” he says, “Lance Corporal Schofield.” 

To Joe’s immense relief, the soldier opens his eyes slowly and regards Joe with a dazed expression. The soldier then smiles slightly, seemingly very at peace with himself.

“Come on, Schofield. Let’s get your wounds checked out, and then get some food in you. You’ve been sleeping for quite some time, it seems,” Joe says, stepping back from his kneeled position.

William nods at him slowly. Joe watches as he gathers two photographs that he had been holding and secures them in a tobacco tin, catching a glimpse of a lovely woman and 2 young girls. Joe then holds out his hand and helps Will up from his sitting position against the tree.

Joe does not know what it is, but as they walk to the medic tent, he feels oddly serene. He feels more at peace than he has the entire day, and a part of him feels guilty about it. His baby brother had just died, damn it! How could he already be at peace with that?

“It’s alright, Lieutenant Blake,” William says as they continue their walk, “We’ll make it home to our families. And Tom will always be with us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhh I had no clue how to end this. Not a huge fan of the ending, but it is what it is. 
> 
> I originally posted this on my 1917/history/etc blog on tumblr, which is schofielded, because at the time I didn’t have an AO3, but I got one a couple weeks ago so here we are (and my AO3 is named after my Star Wars/Clone Wars sideblog that I have on tumblr)
> 
> Was the head bump between Blake and Scho inspired by the Mandalorian Keldabe kiss?? The world may never know.
> 
> Critiques and writing advice are definitely welcome! I’m always looking for ways to improve. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
